Not Alone
by Cloudsinmycoffee9
Summary: In the aftermath of the Red Dinner, Cora receives some advice and comfort from an unlikely source, and processes her feelings about the event and what it means for her and Robert.
1. Chapter 1

She hadn't wanted to be found. She'd left the house, slipped out rather quickly, walking as fast as she could to the gardens. There were a number of benches in the gardens at the Abbey . . . many of them holding a memory or two for her, for them. But she hugged herself and kept walking until she found one tucked in a corner. She sat hard on the bench, arms around her middle, rocking back and forth, forcing herself to breathe deeply and preparing herself to cry, now that she was out of sight of the house.

But it seemed that after weeks of holding everything she'd been feeling in, her eyes had forgotten how to properly cry. To release. Now that she had the chance, the tears that had threatened nearly every hour since that dreadful dinner refused to come.

It wasn't fair.

When Carson had come into their bedroom and announced that Nanny was bringing the children round, Mary, Edith and Tom had stood to go down.

He'd reached for her hand as she'd stood to watch them go. "You go down, too, Cora. I don't need you here with me all day, much as I enjoy it." He was smiling up at her, but still looking so pale, so tired and so pale. The lack of color in his cheeks made his hair greyer, his eyes bluer and more intense somehow. She was so terribly happy that he was alive – that he would recover. But every time she looked at him, she remembered how awful that night had been, how close she had been to losing him. It made her heart stop a little and her nose pricked with coming tears. Tears she didn't want him to see.

"All right, darling," she'd said, too brightly, looking around the room at anything. "Can I get you anything? Settle you into bed? Do you need a new book or shall I ring for more tea, dear - "

"I'm fine here. You've taken excellent care of me. You deserve a break with the grandchildren. Although you might ring for Bates. He was a crack at chess during the war and I think I've practiced enough with Tom lately to be ready to talk him into a game. I'll see you in a bit."

"If you're sure."

He'd kissed the back of her hand and smiled again. "Bates and I will manage. Go on, Cor."

She'd looked back at him when she'd readied to go, pausing at the door, but his gaze already out the window and a look of concern across his brow. She'd been tempted to stay, tempted to run back in and kiss his forehead again as a measly excuse to check his temperature again. But Bates' particular gait was sounding in the hall, so she had started down the stairs again.

And though she missed spending as much time as usual with her grandchildren, as she'd reached the bottom of the stairs, the urge to just keep going had become too strong. Reaching for her coat and gloves, she'd been out the door before she knew it, walking as fast as she could, head down, praying no one would miss her absence.

And now she sat on the bench, waiting for tears that wouldn't fall, wanting desperately to just have it out, get it over with, anxious for the cathartic release she knew she would feel if she could just –

"Ah, there you are."

Cora stiffened on the bench and felt her jaw set.

"I'm sure I'm the last person you want to see. Or, at least, I'm on that list."

She swallowed against a groan of frustration and prepared her words, turning just a tiny bit around to address the intruder.

"Cousin Isobel," the words came out harsher than she meant to, but she found she couldn't quite help herself, "don't say such things, you've been so helpful and kind – "

"No, no, you don't have to placate me. I know you came out here to hide from everyone in the family. You've been through an awful ordeal, Cousin Cora. That was a shocking event and a long, hard night for you both, with an arduous recovery still in process. You have been a pillar of strength and grace for your children, for Robert, even Cousin Violet and Rosamund. And of course, terribly polite."

"Thank you, but I don't – "

"The thing is, I know I'm technically in the family, but I'm also a bit of an outsider." Cousin Isobel walked closer. "May I?" she gestured towards the bench and Cora nodded slowly, still upset her solitude was being intruded upon but now curious as to what Cousin Isobel had to say. "As I was saying, I'm a bit of an outsider still. And I know that in this time, you want to be strong for your children as they worry about their father. And you probably feel you can't turn to Mary, as she's recently lost a husband. Nor would you rely on Edith, as she's rather in the same boat. Rosamund, as well. Your mother is an ocean away, and I don't know how much any of us rely on Cousin Violet for sympathy in the best of times. And she's quite shaken herself. But I thought, if you'll let me, perhaps I could be of some help."

Cora mused for a moment over the very astute summary Cousin Isobel had just delivered, before she sat up quite suddenly. "Oh my God – you've all – you've all lost your husbands, and I've been given a second chance with mine, and here I am, hiding in the gardens, I'm, I'm – " she found she couldn't quite go on.

"You've done nothing wrong, so please, don't be sorry about it. It's not a club you want membership to. And you must know that Robert means a great deal to all of us. He is not just the Earl – he is so loved by your family, the people of the estate, the town. Mrs. Hughes told me that everyone downstairs was simply beside themselves at the news, Mr. Carson especially, and they rejoiced at hearing he would recover. Robert's loss would have been a terrible blow to many, and we're so very glad he's recovering so well."

At her mention of the family and the estate and Robert's significance in the lives of so many people around them, Cora felt a tiny crack in the mask of control and strength she had been wearing the past few weeks. The Countess part of her mind had already been preparing what would be an appropriate remark when Isobel spoke again.

"I've never told you much about my late husband, Reggie."

Cora stifled her surprise at the abrupt change in subject. "No, you haven't," she agreed softly, wiping away a few stray tears that had squeezed out as she'd thought of Robert.

"It always hurts a little to talk about, even after all these years."

Cora turned and regarded her cousin, who had throw her head back into the sun and was smiling with her eyes closed in memory. "He was so very passionate about his job, about his research. We could talk about anything for hours. So much personality, and so generous. He would have been handsome otherwise but I was positively sick with love when we married. And to work side by side, and then to come home and still be together, to wake up the next day and do it all again. It was perfection."

"I've seen your wedding photo. Matthew brought it over once to show Mary, and I sneaked a quick look. You were both quite good-looking, Cousin Isobel, and even in a photo I could tell you were much in love."

Isobel lowered her head and looked down at her hands, still smiling, but now somewhat sadly. "We were. I'm still in love with him. I always will be. And losing Matthew, losing our child, my last living part of him, was harder than . . . " she looked away, and Cora reached out a hand to cover hers in sympathy. For although she still had Robert, she knew well that pain of losing a child.

The women sat quietly for a few moments in sympathetic understanding until Isobel continued, turning back to face Cora fully.

"We're both so very fortunate, to have known that kind of all-consuming, life-altering love."

Cora choked on a tiny sob at Isobel's words, and felt a few more tears make their way down her cheeks, falling into her lap.

"You perhaps even more than I, for we both know how rare it is to find such a thing among 'your kind of people,' as Mary used to always be so fond of saying."

Cora looked up, worried, but there was no bitterness in Cousin Isobel's face or tone, just a small smile as she pressed on. "And you've every right to take a moment to yourself, and feel everything it is that you are feeling, Cora. I encourage you to do so. It might not be very British of me, but it is honest."

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, as Cora thought over what Isobel had said.

"Thank you, Isobel, truly. You're right – I haven't wanted to burden anyone, especially not the girls, especially not Robert. And I –" she paused, looking out over the garden. "I don't even know what exactly I'm feeling. Still so scared that something could happen again. Terribly relieved that he's still here with me. Worried about the girls and the future." She looked down at her fingers in her lap, fiddling with nothing on her skirt, feeling the welling of tears come up again to her eyes. "And, I suppose, even guilty that I didn't try harder to make him take better care of himself," she finished, her voice shaking.

"I'd wager Robert is feeling most of that, as well."

"I don't want him to think about anything but getting better. And taking care of himself."

"Of course. But you've spent more of your lives together as one than as separate people. If there's anyone you can talk to about what you're feeling, anyone who would understand, it's him. If there's anything we learn from trying times such as these, I think it's that it's the importance of sharing what we feel with those with love. How painful it is to regret not saying what we should have."

Cora thought back to that night, the shock of seeing his blood pouring out as he convulsed to the floor, the longest walk of her life around the table to get to his side, and the words he'd said that he'd thought might be his last. She thought of the hours spent by his hospital bed, holding his hand, counting each breath his took in and out, whispering memories and endearments and prayers until he had finally opened his eyes and found hers. She remembered the brave face she'd put on for him and the girls, and the effort it required to keep it on since those first moments of terror.

"No matter what, I know you, Cora, and you will persevere through any trial. But you're not alone. Sometimes we have to be reminded of that – and to remember that just as we would bear any burden for those we love, they would bear it for us, too. And if it helps, I want you to know I am here to serve in any capacity in which I might be useful. Whatever the family needs." Cousin Isobel stood quietly. "All right. I'll take my leave. Perhaps I will see you at dinner." She started walking back towards the house when Cora called out.

"Cousin Isobel," she turned on the bench to face her. "You're not an outsider, you know. Not at all."

Isobel smiled. "Thank you. You're a dear to say so." They shared a smile of understanding. "I'll see you later."

Cora sat on the bench, listening to the wind in the trees, the beating of her own heart. Her hands felt suddenly empty and she longed for Robert's to hold them. She walked slowly back to the house, thinking over what Isobel had said. She thought again of the fear she'd seen in her husband's eyes, the concerned and faraway look on his face whenever he thought no one was watching. Every moment since he'd woken up in the hospital had been spent discussing recovery with the doctors, assuring the family that he would be all right and dedicated to his health, resting quietly. But they hadn't truly spoken to each other, just the two of them, had they? She hadn't wanted to burden him with her feelings, to cause him any undue stress, or have him think about anything but recovering. She so desperately needed him to recover, to live so much more life with her.

So no, they hadn't really spoken of it. It was the aristocratic English way – to soldier on stoically. But perhaps, as Isobel had suggested, he was feeling everything as deeply as she was. Perhaps he was even feeling as alone as she had often felt over the last few weeks as they'd both put all their efforts into keeping a brave front for everyone else around them.

"Oh, Robert, darling," she murmured, tears falling freshly again as she hurried her pace. Maybe she was wrong, maybe he didn't want to speak of it at all, but if he did, she so wanted it to be to her. And she realized suddenly that there were quite a few things she wanted to say to him. And they would bear whatever pain or emotion it brought on for each other. They always did. You always do for those you love.


	2. Chapter 2

"There you are," he said happily, looking up at her entrance as he placed a book on the bedside table, which had gathered quite the collection of novels, magazines, and trinkets for "good luck" from the grandchildren in the weeks he'd spent convalescing.

She shut the door behind her and drew a shaky breath for confidence and courage as she reached his side. "Oh, dear. Did you need me? I'm sorry, darling. I was in the gardens for a while, I must have lost track of time. I didn't mean to stay away so long." He was as she'd left him - sitting up in bed, hair adorably mussed, pale but otherwise looking well. She pulled off her gloves and reflexively placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature, but he grabbed it and brought it to his lips.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Bates left just now after destroying me at chess. I just missed you, is all."

"You missed me?" she asked shyly, caught off guard. She unbuttoned her coat and placed it over the chair quickly before returning to the edge of the bed. "Goodness. I've been at your side for nearly four weeks straight. I would think my company has grown tiresome for you."

"The company of anyone else in the world, and I daresay it would grow tiresome. But not being with you." He pulled her closer. "I knew from the day we met that there was nothing tiresome about your company. And, my darling," she settled her hips on the bed beside him as he kept drawing her nearer and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "being around you so much has only caused me to remember just how delightful -" a kiss to her jawline - "how beautiful" - "darling," she sighed against him. "How very essential you are to me," he ended, his lips under her ear and his fingers dangerously close to undoing her hair.

"Three more weeks, Robert . . . " she warned gently, even as her own fingers drifted up his arm and then back down to lace through his again.

"Not as long as that. Nineteen days," he responded, grinning.

"...you're counting the days?" she asked, pleased, fingering the buttons at the top of his pyjamas.

"I may or may not have a little reminder in my diary," he cleared his throat as she dropped her jaw in shock. "It's just, well," his cheeks reddened a bit before he went on, "Of course, I always want to show you my affection, dearest, but something about being explicitly told in a somewhat awkward conversation with the good Dr. Clarkson that I cannot makes it all the more enticing for some reason. Why is that?" he asked, looking adorably perplexed.

"That's because you're rather childlike when it suits you - tell him he can't have it and it becomes his heart's desire," she teased, pressing a slow kiss into his lips and delighting in the little grunt he made, the feel of his hands encircling her waist, drifting lower until she pulled back with a satisfied smirk.

"Trust me," he growled, "my thoughts are hardly of a childlike or innocent nature while you're prancing about in flimsy nightgowns every night - "

"Robert! I do not 'prance'!" she exclaimed, giggling.

"-practically see-through, they are. As I lie here helpless - not that I mind, but it's a good thing it's not my heart we're worried about or we'd really be in trouble."

Her giggles ceased suddenly as Cora gasped at his words, struck with their significance. His face grew concerned. "No, don't - I'm sorry I said that. Please, dearest. I've so missed that sound. You laughing."

"I'm sorry, Robert, I just - "

His knuckles caressed her cheek. "I like that I can still make you laugh, Cor." He looked deeply into her eyes, his stare so intense she had to look away. His voice dropped, "I intend to keep doing so for a long time still, you know."

"Do you promise?" her voice trembled and she could feel the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Because, you see, I want, I want - " she felt tears begin to trace tracks down her face and closed her eyes against them only to feel Robert's hands on her cheeks, thumbs slowly sliding across the wet paths. She turned into his palm and kissed it, held her hand to it as she looked back at him, unmindful of the sudden surge of tears.

"What do you want, dearest?" His voice was thick with emotion.

She took a deep breath to fortify herself. "I want to know that what happened that night won't just be swept under the rug and forgotten, Robert. I want to know that you'll take every precaution and follow doctor's orders, and tell me the minute you aren't feeling well. No more pretending things will just get better on their own without changing our habits. I want you to let me take care of you, darling. Because I want - I need more time with you."

Robert's eyes filled with unshed tears, his gaze shifted down and to the side, guilt sweeping over his features. His hands dropped from her face, but she grabbed them to hold in her hands.

"We haven't truly talked about it, and maybe I shouldn't tell you, but - Robert, I was so scared, darling. So frightened for you - for the pain you were feeling. And then at the hospital, praying every moment until you woke up - " her voice broke and he looked back at her, squeezing her hands as tears finally drifted down his cheeks. "And you did - thank God you did." She reached a hand behind his head to stroke his neck, and as she shifted towards him, he pulled her into his lap and pulled her closer to touch his forehead to hers, taking a deep breath. Her nose met his and she closed her eyes, overcome. "Thank God you did. Because I'm not done loving you, Robert. I don't want any of my life without you."

"Cora, my Cora," was all he could manage as they sat on the bed together for a few minutes, breathing each other in as her nose traced the planes of his face, her hands framing his face as she whispered 'oh, my darling,' softly to him until her tears had slowed and they both breathed more evenly.

"Do you know," he said, breaking the silence after a few moments of calm, "that I've been meaning to apologize to you?"

She looped her arm around his shoulder to support herself as she leaned back to look at him, her hand wiping his cheek where tracks of their mingled tears lingered. "Darling? To me? Whatever for?"

He looked down at his lap. "For that evening. For ignoring the signs that could have possibly prevented such a dreadful scene for you and the girls. I'll never forgive myself for all the trouble and worry I've caused. It might have all been prevented had I backed off more from the estate and let Mary and now Tom do what they've proven to be so capable of. It pains me to admit that I'm not needed nearly as much as I thought I was, considering how easily you're all getting along while I continue to get more blasted rest. But I let my pride get in the way and it nearly cost me my life, and all I have with you, Cora. I'm so sorry. How terribly foolish of me."

"Robert, don't apologize to me or anyone else for such a thing when you were experiencing yourself something so horrific!" She shook her head at him, at the memories, but he pressed on.

"No, I mean it. I can barely remember the actual pain of the ulcer, but I remember clearly thinking, knowing, really, that I was going to die in that moment. Knowing those were the last moments we'd spend together, spend with the girls, wondering what I had last said to our grandchildren, sure of what I needed to say to you." He swallowed hard and his voice was hoarse when he spoke again. "That must have been absolutely terrifying for you to witness, but you were so brave, my darling." He brushed her hair back from her face. "I was bleeding my life away on the floor, all over your hands, and you didn't turn away or swoon. You didn't say goodbye. You held me in your hands, looked me right in the eye and never wavered, and promised it wasn't the end. Because you were strong enough to believe I would get through it. And that was enough to make me believe it, too."

Her chin quivered and she could feel tears coming again. "I don't feel so strong now, sobbing in front of my poor husband and sharing all my concerns with him when he should be - "

"I warn you that if I hear the word 'rest' in any shape or form one more time today I shall go mad."

"Oh, Robert!" She huffed at the look on his face but stopped, trying and failing to suppress a watery smile. "Well, then, at the very least he should be - "

"Holding his wife properly, if you would just kick off your shoes and then slide over here, darling."

Surprised, and feeling guilty again for sitting in his lap for so long when it might be taxing on his body still recovering from the surgery, she complied quickly, dropping her shoes to the floor and then carefully crawling over his legs and to his side. He held his arm open to her and she gladly tucked her skirt under the covers, her stockinged feet rubbing against the silk of his pajama legs, her head to his shoulder, gingerly placing her hand on his chest.

"In bed, fully dressed, in the afternoon. What would Mama say?" she murmured, still moving against him as she settled.

"This is the least of it in our history together, I should think. And besides, she doesn't have to know," he whispered conspiratorially into her ear, his warm breath making her shiver and pull closer to him. His hand began making lazy passes over her back and shoulders. Warmed by his side and feeling the release of having finally shed a few good tears, she melted further into his embrace. This was the closest she'd allowed them to be physically since that night, and she relished the intimacy of their position, despite the inappropriateness of the hour and her dress.

In the back of her mind, she wondered how uncomfortable this might be for Robert with his stitches and considerable muscle strain, but she decided to let him take the lead for the moment, trusting he would let her know, voluntarily or not, whether he was in any pain. Until then, she enjoyed it. Her foot found its way between his calves, stroking his shins with her toes as her fingers began playing idly at the vee in his pyjamas, tracing the neckline and back down, up and down lazily to scratch at the small patch of hair she should see there.

"Three more weeks, Cora," he warned, a smile in his voice as he shifted slightly on the pillow.

"Nineteen days," she shot back, but she ceased her explorations, laying her hand still over his chest, and settled in more firmly against him, content to hear his even breathing, to feel his solid being beneath her.

"Is this the first time you've let yourself cry, Cora?"

His question divided the silence and surprised her, but after a pause she shook her head slowly in affirmation against his shoulder. She felt and heard him make a sound as if to ward off tears, before he spoke again, almost too lightly.

"You've been in England too long, dearest." He pulled her tighter against him kissing the top of her head. "If you need to have a good cry, Cor, don't you know I want you to come to me? Just like always? Let me comfort you, and be useful in some way to you."

"Oh, but Robert. I couldn't, before," she began, "I - I couldn't cry in front of the girls, or Mama - we were all so worried and they all looked to me. And then you - I didn't, I don't want you to worry, my love."

She felt herself shake a little, but he only pulled her closer and whispered against her ear. "You're my wife. I will worry about you whether or not you give me permission to do so. So I promise that I will tell you if I'm feeling poorly, and I will let you fuss over me, because I know it makes you feel better. And in return, you must promise me that you will come to me when you feel poorly for any reason, and let me comfort you and hold you as much as necessary."

She pressed her smile into his chest and felt his left hand thread fingers through hers over his heart.

"If you don't mind."

"Of course not. You're my wife. It's part of my sacred duties," his lips rested against her forehead and kissed her softly, reverently.

"I am your wife. And you are my husband. My dear, dear husband. So that is a promise I can easily make."

"Good."

"There is just one more thing, Robert." She lifted herself up in his arms to look at his face, where a glimmer of worry flashed across his features.

"Oh? What's this?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"I have loved you very, very much." She didn't mean for it to happen, but the tears came suddenly and she couldn't stop them, even as her throat clogged with emotion and her voice sounded strange to her own ears. But she persisted, because she wanted to say it, she needed to say it. "And I will love you more still, for the rest of our lives together. And I mean to tell you so every day. To not take it for granted that we'll have tomorrow to say so." She smiled hopefully as he reached up to wipe errant tears from her face.

"No, no," he replied softly. "No, we won't take any of it for granted, Cor."

They looked into each other's eyes, a lifetime of memories, hardships, triumphs, surging between them. He pulled her lips towards his for a long, pressing kiss before settling her again against his shoulder.

She felt the warmth of his embrace, his arms around her, his legs cradling hers. She heard the tick of his heart, and her whole body felt a peace long desired that had come with the tears shed as she'd opened her heart fully to Robert. She felt lighter than she had in weeks, every bone and muscle that had felt so heavy relaxed.

She was nearly asleep when she heard and felt it against her forehead.

"I loved you then, I love you now, I'll love you no matter what," he whispered. "And I'll tell you again tomorrow. Cora. Cora."


End file.
